Dr. S. Klim (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
futilecycle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-05-12 03:14 pm
futilecycle) wrote in thecapitol2014-05-12 03:14 pm
Entry tags:
But those sad souvenirs [OPEN]
Who | Sigma, the Initiate, and you.
What | The Capitol breaks Sigma Klim.
When | The day before the Arena.
Where | District 10 Suite and Common Room.
Warnings/Notes | Old man having a nervous breakdown, relationship with significant age difference, mentions of non-Hunger Games death games.
The couple had been conversing quietly, seated on the bed with their foreheads touching and the cat spread contentedly across their laps, when they came for Diana.
When the door to his suite was forced open, Sigma reacted almost immediately, grabbing his lover by the wrist and scrambling for the back of the room - where they were quickly cornered. With a violent lurch, a peacekeeper wrenched Sigma from the young woman's grasp while another secured Diana's cuffs. Diana did not resist, but rather whimpered, and Sigma could see her crumble before his eyes and retreat to a place in her mind he would not be able to pull her from.
Sigma would remember very little of what transpired next: it passed him by in a white-hot rage.
With inhuman strength, Sigma pushed violently backwards against the Peacekeeper that restrained him until they met the wall, where the impact crushed him inside of his own armor. Freed, the Doctor leapt forward like a tormented animal and struck another with all of the strength his metal arms could muster. Before he had the chance to be revolted by his own violence, something cold dug into the metal of his arm- a potent sedative, he knew at once- but his cybernetics purposefully diffused drugs into his bloodstream at a slower rate than the average human. It was for this reason Sigma had the opportunity to start on another of Diana's captors when they thought to prick him instead in the back of the neck, and immediately the world came apart and went white.
It was his own shock that would wake him hours later. Still reeling from the anesthetic and frantic nerves, he turned at once to Diana's side of the bed. Sigma's hand reached down to touch the sheet where he ran it softly across the mattress: it was still slightly warm where she had sat, her legs sprawled across the quilt beneath her... A terrible, inhuman cry pierced the silence; it startled Sigma to discover that the sound had come from his own lips. He collapsed against the bed and wept miserably.
It would be hours before Sigma would leave his room. Wholly broken, the old man sat on the edge of the bed with his forehead resting on fists locked together on his knees, lips turning blue from the shock. His energy spent from crying, he instead trembled in exhaustion. The spiral of guilt wound round and round no matter how hard Sigma tried to pull himself out of it: he thought of the most precious, most beautiful child in the world waking up on a 'sinking ship' with a bomb in her stomach, screaming. He thought of that same young woman, grown and having moved on from her trauma, now being thrown into a cell and tortured when her lover did not do as her keepers pleased. Or worse, soon to be trapped in another game of death with dozens of bloodthirsty Tributes, armed and dangerous, to contend with... or perhaps killed outright, executed in a soundproof room. It was far worse not knowing. Regardless of her fate, if she lived, he knew without doubt she could never, ever be repaired. If she had died, it was Sigma who would never heal.
That day Sigma was a ghost, barely speaking if spoken to and wandering through the day in a nervous haze, jumping at the slightest unexpected movement. He'd locked Nye out of his room when he'd startled him with the jingling of bells and Sigma had responded with terror. Though his despair was genuine, rather than bottle his grief as he usually did, he told himself it would be to his advantage to wear his heart on his sleeve for some time longer.
Through all of his fury and his hate and his anguish, Sigma was hatching a plan.
What | The Capitol breaks Sigma Klim.
When | The day before the Arena.
Where | District 10 Suite and Common Room.
Warnings/Notes | Old man having a nervous breakdown, relationship with significant age difference, mentions of non-Hunger Games death games.
The couple had been conversing quietly, seated on the bed with their foreheads touching and the cat spread contentedly across their laps, when they came for Diana.
When the door to his suite was forced open, Sigma reacted almost immediately, grabbing his lover by the wrist and scrambling for the back of the room - where they were quickly cornered. With a violent lurch, a peacekeeper wrenched Sigma from the young woman's grasp while another secured Diana's cuffs. Diana did not resist, but rather whimpered, and Sigma could see her crumble before his eyes and retreat to a place in her mind he would not be able to pull her from.
Sigma would remember very little of what transpired next: it passed him by in a white-hot rage.
With inhuman strength, Sigma pushed violently backwards against the Peacekeeper that restrained him until they met the wall, where the impact crushed him inside of his own armor. Freed, the Doctor leapt forward like a tormented animal and struck another with all of the strength his metal arms could muster. Before he had the chance to be revolted by his own violence, something cold dug into the metal of his arm- a potent sedative, he knew at once- but his cybernetics purposefully diffused drugs into his bloodstream at a slower rate than the average human. It was for this reason Sigma had the opportunity to start on another of Diana's captors when they thought to prick him instead in the back of the neck, and immediately the world came apart and went white.
It was his own shock that would wake him hours later. Still reeling from the anesthetic and frantic nerves, he turned at once to Diana's side of the bed. Sigma's hand reached down to touch the sheet where he ran it softly across the mattress: it was still slightly warm where she had sat, her legs sprawled across the quilt beneath her... A terrible, inhuman cry pierced the silence; it startled Sigma to discover that the sound had come from his own lips. He collapsed against the bed and wept miserably.
It would be hours before Sigma would leave his room. Wholly broken, the old man sat on the edge of the bed with his forehead resting on fists locked together on his knees, lips turning blue from the shock. His energy spent from crying, he instead trembled in exhaustion. The spiral of guilt wound round and round no matter how hard Sigma tried to pull himself out of it: he thought of the most precious, most beautiful child in the world waking up on a 'sinking ship' with a bomb in her stomach, screaming. He thought of that same young woman, grown and having moved on from her trauma, now being thrown into a cell and tortured when her lover did not do as her keepers pleased. Or worse, soon to be trapped in another game of death with dozens of bloodthirsty Tributes, armed and dangerous, to contend with... or perhaps killed outright, executed in a soundproof room. It was far worse not knowing. Regardless of her fate, if she lived, he knew without doubt she could never, ever be repaired. If she had died, it was Sigma who would never heal.
That day Sigma was a ghost, barely speaking if spoken to and wandering through the day in a nervous haze, jumping at the slightest unexpected movement. He'd locked Nye out of his room when he'd startled him with the jingling of bells and Sigma had responded with terror. Though his despair was genuine, rather than bottle his grief as he usually did, he told himself it would be to his advantage to wear his heart on his sleeve for some time longer.
Through all of his fury and his hate and his anguish, Sigma was hatching a plan.
Enjoy the novel
"The fuck's the matter with you?" He asks. The goat stares some more, then, slowly, he moves forward knocking his muzzle to the Initiate's middle. The Initiate's hands raise up, then fall. He doesn't say a word as his mind reels.
"WHAT-"
The goat lift his head up and tilts his horns down. But not to skewer, not to charge.
The Initiate feels his breath leave him. His expression twists. He walks forward, each step a heavy weight on him, and then... he gently butts his forehead against his old goat's. Old nostalgia, burns through him, from a time long before, when this hadn't yet been lost. The goat bleats for once, a pleased if mumfled sound. His hand raises again to tangle with the damp white fur.
"Dammit, Da," He breathes. He's roused by the sound of a splash pulling back away quick, ready to dive in, but Gamzee hasn't fallen this time. He's swimming on his own and climbing out just the same. His alter avoids the water, walking along the goat's length until he reaches the pool edge and can hop down. Neither one of them is looking at him, but instead straight ahead. The Initiate turns. The peacekeeper's fire.
The Initiate's eyes go round as the goat roars. He grabs his alter and descendant a second before the hooves stomp down on them. The peacekeeper's don't stop with trying all to tranquillize his Da. He gets up off Gamzee and his alter and they've both come to the same thought as him.
The peacekeepers coming for the two of them with handcuffs and tazers ready are met with the roars echoed with he and Gamzee. Its fear that rings in Gamzee's scream. Only fury in his own. His alter is silent but he brings the harsh noise down with the sound of one peacekeepers elicited cry as his alter wields the heel from his foot like a weapon and tries to stab it in with wide eyes-- and finally the Initiate can recognize himself.
But not enough so that his stitched alternate is prepared for the punch he receives. He's pinned easy. Quick. The brother ain't Alternian. He ain't never learned to fight.
But he and Gamzee have, and for all Gamzee's fear and his distraction, he slips quick past peacekeepers trying to trip them, and in their downing, he stomps quick and vicious in simple efficiency, trying to incapacitate.
The Initiate goes for the same, only a little damn harder, a little less caring for mercy, tearing them down and punching, kicking, everything he can think to do short of ripping off their limbs. He feels bones break. He tears at flesh with his claws and bites where all they get near his teeth.
A peacekeeper goes flying after a blur of the goat's tail. The goat roars again.
Then suddenly, he falls.
Gamzee screams, "DA!" And for his distraction, Initiate's descendant takes a crack to his skull and falls too, pinned and restrained.
Kurloz is brought to his feet and lifts his chin with pride even with the splitting of one thread on his lips, even now retaining dignity. Gamzee is dragged up to his feet looking terrified, unable to stop struggling or trying to. "Stop it! Leave him the motherfuck be!" He looks to the Initiate and he can see now that Gamzee, for the first time perhaps, is fully lucid too. "Brother! Fraysong!"
The Initiate leaps at the nearest peacekeeper, screaming, claws ready to tear out a throat. He's knocked before the cull is claimed but he feels fabric tear and he sees liquid ruby jewels shine and shimmer. A chest wound instead of neck. He turns his attentions on the one who threw him off and he tries for the cull then still. Only to be hauled back, tons of hands gripping him at once and pulling. Another readies a club like weapon and it connects. Again. And again. The Initiate snarls and makes to rip free only to feel the jab of sedative and the numbing cold course through. He's punched before he's dropped and his body gives. He's kicked before his vision is lost.
He hears his descendant call until he can't hear nothing at all. And all the while, he can't speak a word.
When he wakes, his eye has swollen near to closing. His paint is smeared. Several cracks and splits run over bottom lips were it was cut and pierced on his fangs, and so blue-purple blood runs free where it hasn't yet scabbed, smearing the paint that way too. He pushes himself up to sit on his haunches and he stares, disbelieving.
His alter is gone.
His descendant; gone.
His Da...
For a short second he's on a beach, small body broken, so much more broken than anything capitol had done, but standing as he screams out over the water for a father who wasn't coming back. The cry rings in his ears and he can remember the way it felt when the voodoo changed his voice even though he hadn't even noticed at the time. He can hear Gamzee in that same scream. He can hear the scream of his alter.
He thought the insult of having to care for his Da would be enough, but as he walks back from his room and stares at the empty pool of water, the empty grass, he realises he was wrong. Despite all he knew from Alternia and the ways of cruelty, he underestimated them.
Usually in these moments, his first instinct would be to find Mituna. Soothe his mind, soothe his soul. Stop the noise.
But not this time.
He hauls himself again to his feet, not realising when he dropped. There was no family for Mituna. No salt rubbed into whatever loss was of him-- he doubts there was nothing. Mituna would be okay, with the vanishing of everyone. But there were others who wouldn't be. Others who... who might understand a little better, that of family as he, an indigo, would know it.
Rage whirls around him like it's his voodoo. It cloaks him in a thick aura, a surrounding fog. It carries him up and up and right the fuck up. Until he reaches district ten, palms dripping from where he's dug his claws in too hard. His breath is heavy but slow, just barely keeping from becoming a growl with each one. The yellow of his sclera- in the visible eye anyway- is instead a deep, deep red. He stops only when he finds Sigma, and for a long moment, he simply stands there, not yet willing to state what they both already know. He waits for... something.
no subject
She reached out, one pale hand extended. "Are you... feeling all right?"
no subject
She knew it was only a matter of time, of course. But when they came, she knew what she had to do. Even when she saw them come, en masse - for what reason would they need handcuffs for Madoka, a terrified little girl? What were they going to do--
No. She just gave Madoka a bear hug, as if to never let her go. The moment lasted for an eternity, as Homura began whispering to the other girl one last thing.
Stay yourself. Don't forget--
And then the Peacekeepers ripped them apart. Homura's outstretched hand tried to reach her still, shaking as Madoka drowned in the sea of Peacekeepers...and out of the corner of her eye, seeing Avoxes enter their rooms
"MADOKA!!"
--
It was a good six hours later before Homura emerged from her room, Madoka the cat held tightly in her arms. Her room was trashed; various holes were punched in the walls, pillows ripped to shreds. It was all she could do to stop herself from doing - becoming - something more drastic.
They were controlling Madoka. They hurt Madoka. And then, they erased nearly every trace of her after. Her dresses were gone, as were the trinkets from the museum. No relics were left for Homura to feel, to look at, to hold, to know that Madoka had even been there. It was as if that wonderful girl had never even existed.
Cruel. The Capitol was cruel. And her heart was filled, not with mere despair, but anger towards them. If not outright hatred, for her captors. There was only one solution, in her mind. She had to make them stop. She had to make them pay for their mockery.
Not yet.
There was only one person she could speak to of this feeling, this rage. Setting Madoka down near Nye - where the two cats can bump noses and get reacquainted - she wiped her eyes of any remaining tears and walked to the door.
Knock, knock.
I do :D
But it's a parental instinct he hadn't known he'd had that draws him from his grief, and awareness slowly returns to Sigma's eyes as he realizes the Initiate- perhaps the only family he has left- is waiting for him. It's a much needed reminder that there are things more important than his selfish feelings, now. Blinking to restore sight to his dry eye, Sigma rises from the bed and clenches his fists. He's not a medical Doctor, but the thought that cortisol is sometimes fatal to the elderly reminds Sigma he must pull himself together. He must survive, and he must be strong, for the Initiate's sake.
He makes his way towards the Initiate carefully. At first he keeps his gaze to the floor, grief replaced with tranquil fury. When he lifts his chin to meet the Initiate's eyes, his hateful glare remains - not at all directed at him, but at the enemy they had mutually agreed to bring down. Sigma has decided he will stop at nothing, no matter how foul, to give the Capitol that which they deserve. He does not need words to communicate this to the other.
Then it's gone, and Sigma again becomes a broken old man. He lifts his cybernetic arm delicately, as if they were sore, to touch the Initiate's clenched fists. His voice is hollow and cracked and his lips have a difficult time forming sound, but his concern is unmistakeable. "You're hurt..." In far more ways than one, the Initiate was also suffering.
no subject
And then it's gone. He softens his expression and faces the young woman properly. "Oh... Pardon me." His voice is hoarse and barely there. He clears his throat, but it does not do much. "No. No, I'm afraid not. But pay me no mind..." He shrugs. "You are new, yes? Welcome." There's no sincerity at all in those words.
no subject
no subject
Homura's fist simply stays on the door after knocking. Knuckles pressing hard against wood.
"...Its me. Akemi Homura." The arm holding the fist began to shake slightly. He sounded...almost like a frightened child, muffled as his voice was on the other side. "Are you busy, right now?"
no subject
Given the expressions she'd seen on the faces of other tributes, and the reruns of the games she'd seen, circumstances were not good.
"My name is Sabriel, and I've been informed of... most of the important details. And most of the people here seem like- well, people I wish I could meet under better conditions." She wanted to help this man. She wanted to help all the other tributes, she just wasn't sure how yet.
Aw ye
Sigma's loss is written all over him. His sorrow is in the slow movement. The reddening of his eyes is the auburn of Diana's hair. The quiet of his voice is hers. There's a relief deep inside that he doesn't have to explain. There's an anger renewed that either of them should have to. He's sick of this place and their mind games. And maybe, he's just a little sick with himself.
He should've known. He should've up and expected this all, wasn't he Alternian? Wasn't this just how things worked? He wonders if they'll bring them all before their lot to execute every last one of their people. He wonders if it will be painful, if it will draw blood, if he'll hear the screams form symphony in the air. Or maybe they're just be thrown in a hive somewhere and burned down with it, none of them all ever knowing.
What purpose did this serve though? Those deaths would give no more control, no more power. It had to be a message then, to all the tributes, to the victors of this world whom would behold this event as it went. But now there is truly no one in his old world left what they could hurt now. Everyone important was here. The only enemies worth culling now, were here. He is affirmed once again what side has been chosen for him. Later he will pray it is the right one, but for now he hasn't a doubt.
And with it all, the capitol takes the shame out of his next action. He steps forward quick. Then throws his arms around Sigma.
no subject
"...You are one of the first newcomers I have met to say such a thing. I commend you, truly." He averts his gaze a moment. "Killing eachother is... such a waste." His voice catches on the last word, but he stops himself from crying again. "...Hello, Sabriel." He looks up at her with a forced smile, so slight his expression barely changes. "My name is Sigma Klim. I also wish we could have met under different circumstances. I have recently discovered someone close to me is gone... I do not mean to be cold."
no subject
In truth, Sigma had also expected this, but the more they drew it out the more Sigma had been lulled into a false sense of security. Just one more day, one more day... He had thought his wishes had been granted, however naive that was.
And then the Initiate is hugging him. It is not the affection itself that stuns Sigma. He realizes suddenly that, for all the relationships he had formed in the Capitol, it could have easily been that they had only wanted the friendship of a reclusive old man for the convenience and protection. Even if that paranoia were not true, the Doctor's thoughts still wandered there, thought of how Eponine had spat at him over his attempts to sort out a problem.
That was not the case with the Initiate. Sigma had done nothing for him yet; the only thing that kept them together was love. Sigma moans as if he is in pain, he shuts his eye tight. He leans into the Initiate and his arms curl around the troll, holding him tightly in exchange, hand running down the other's back to soothe them both.
no subject
Oh my God...
Sigma sits up quickly and opens the door without answering. His eyes are red and puffy, his skin is pale, but the concern he has for Homura is unmistakeable. He communicates his worry without speaking.
no subject
For a moment, when Sigma makes a sound, he thinks he's done it. He's damned this already. But he feels the shorter man wrap around him.
It ain't like Mituna, who clears the mind, cleans the soul. This is a different sort of comfort, one what still takes pains, even as it shares it. What he really feels though, is relief. Like perhaps some part of him somewhere inside thought with the taking of everyone, he wouldn't find Sigma here.
"THEY'VE BROUGHT BACK THE DEAD. If it cannot be done again..." They will pay for it. For hurting Sigma this way. For taunting him. He remembers Diana's smile, Gamzee's voice, the collected lift of his alter's chin. He can feel his Da's fur. His breath shudders.
The goat had wanted to kill him. He had intended to kill his lusus before such could happen. And in him he knew, in the future that would no longer be for him, he had. But something changed in his Da. He didn't know why or what exactly but...
"HE KNEW. He said goodbye," He tells Sigma, voice all wrong. "BEFORE THEY TOOK HIM... He ain't never done that before."
no subject
It was a weak comfort, but Sabrina knew she didn't have much more to offer than understanding at the moment.
no subject
She shook, slightly, as she buried her head into his torso. She must have looked so ridiculous, crying like that, her deep breaths occasionally punctured by ridiculous sounding squeaks. In her mind, at least. She was always the ridiculous one in the end.
I hate them. I hate them all. They've gone too far.
no subject
He begins to run his hand down her back to quell her shaking, combing his hands through her hair as he did so. Then Sigma lifts his other hand to the top of her head, supporting her gently against his chest as a parent would. He is profoundly sorry, though he cannot speak; he should have thought of her first.
Before long, he feels the back of his hand freckled with his own tears. He hadn't known he'd had any left, and yet he cries for Homura, for all she has had to suffer. He understands, he truly does: Sigma allows her to cry for as long as she needs.
no subject
It isn't that he wishes to damn them, no. It is only now that Sigma has come to accept that freedom must be paid with a heavy price, and that it is better to wipe themselves out than to live like this.
Then Sigma is stunned at the other's words, and for a moment, his hand freezes at the Initiate's back. It hovers there a moment before it continues stroking him, and Sigma hides his face. "I'm so glad," he sighs. He wanted to hide that he had any influence on the old sea goat, but it is a rather foregone conclusion, now. He continues, muffled into the Initiate's hair, "I knew you he loved you, in his own way."
no subject
Sigma gets it, he gets the relief, the... faint joy. That feeling he can't name.
But he doesn't get the other part. He doesn't get how foolish he feels, to knowingly have fallen into the trap again, to want what he can't have, to long for something what would never return. Sigma doesn't know about the sweeps and sweeps spent doing it over and over and being made to seem so stupid every damn time he hoped, until he got strong enough to put all that down. To cull the notion as the notion deserved. He doesn't know how long it took or how weak he feels. There's no way Sigma could know, he's
But he doesn't let Sigma go. "HE CAN'T. He can't do this again," He says. "HE. I can't lose anymore, Sigma." Help him.
no subject
Initiate Fraysong was one of the strongest people he knew, but Sigma was aware could not handle much more loss - neither of them could. He pulls away only slightly, still in arm's reach but far back enough to look the other in the eyes. Sigma's hands move to the Initiate's jawbone, moving tentatively up to his cheeks if he would allow it. He is steadying the Initiate's gaze on him - Sigma is resolved about something. It is a scheme that will not be easy on anyone involved, but it is what needs to be done. In the mean time... "I won't go anywhere." He can't promise that, but he must. "No matter what happens, what you do. You're not going to lose me." He should have said that to Eponine from the start, who seemed to believe their relationship came with strings attached - he needs to make it clear to the Initiate that it is not the case between them, now more than ever.
no subject
And it's worth it. The words reach through and he's rendered mute, throat choked, feeling like he's floating just off some distant shore, the water rising high but there's safety in view. He wonders if Sigma knows truly what all those words mean. But he must. Sigma might see that in his eyes gone round.
There's some grace of solid stone, something to stand upon, within Sigma. He doesn't know what it is, but he recognizes it. Familiar from so long ago when he decided enough was enough, he would be a subjugglator-- he would be the Grand Highblood one day. There's a sharpness to that stone, he knows. He fears for Sigma, knowing what he himself would have become. But he knows what's necessary, needed. And...
"HE TRUSTS YOU." He swallows, bracing for the futures to come. "I believe you. WHATEVER IT MOTHERFUCKING TAKES. Won't let you slip." A fool thing to say when he's the one unsteady. But he means it still.
no subject
A moment passes this way. Eventually Sigma sighs, relaxing his grasp to find the Initiate's hands, still bloodied from his own nails. He forces himself to clear his throat and speak, though his words are hollower than before. "...Let's get you cleaned up and fed. With our family gone, they must be starting the Arena soon..." They needed to be in good condition to survive, even if neither of them felt much like eating.
no subject
Of all the wrong things he feels like, it finally becomes clear to him. He feels like a child. This is what... other trolls might feel, maybe. Such a strange thing it is to someone to think to care for him. Even with Mituna, it was always him making sure the other troll ate, picking up the waste he was unable to finish lest Mituna's massive tribble collection find it.
He finds himself blinking at Sigma. Then, "I- ...Alright." His ears fold back hiding the flush. He tries to focus on it being for the arena, but he can't. Mirth be damned. Let's get you cleaned up. It's so pale-- cheater, traitor-- and yet it's really truly not and he is entirely confused but not exactly not okay with it. He doesn't let go of Sigma's hand and ignores the foolish feelings it brings, staring down wide-eyed at the floor and just... breathing.
no subject
"I-I'm...so sorry..." She started to wipe her eyes. "I..I came here for you and...and.."